


This fire is out of control, I'm going to burn this city

by TheBrideOfTheWind



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Football | Soccer, Humor, M/M, Murphy is a Little Shit, Sexual Tension, and lives to tease Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22070134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrideOfTheWind/pseuds/TheBrideOfTheWind
Summary: That Murphamy soccer rivals AU we all have (not) been waiting for.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/John Murphy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	This fire is out of control, I'm going to burn this city

**Author's Note:**

> One of my resolutions for the new year: finally publish something again, especially this story I've finished for quite a time. 
> 
> I hope you like it and happy new year everyone!
> 
> The title is from the song “This Fire” from Franz Ferdinand.

The first couple of games are always the worst. After the summer break, after all the less than enthusiastic training of the last weeks, they finally have to prove how good they are. To complicate things further it is Lincoln’s and his final season before they head off to college, and he wants to give his team a memorable last season, bid them a proper farewell.

Most of his teammates heads are still in the holidays right now, but as the captain Bellamy has the difficult task to motivate them, which involves separating Lincoln from Octavia, restraining Monty and Jasper from smoking too much weed, stopping Wells from giving another unnecessary long lecture, and watching over Finn to prevent him from getting into any fights with jealous boyfriends.

On top of all that, it’s not only their first game this season, but also the first time they play against their opponent of today, and everything he has heard about “the Delinquents” so far, does not do anything to elate him. Some people have tried to tell him the name of their team derived from the fact that every team member has committed a crime in one way or another, yet he’s about to find out how much of it is myth and how much reality.

Whatever may come, as the captain, and because as usual, their coach Kane is mostly preoccupied with making googly eyes at Clarke’s Mom, he has to stay focused and prepare his team the best he can.

“Alright,” he prods them, “a few more laps, then we stretch, and after that–”

His motivational speech is interrupted by a sharp shoulder bumping into Jasper’s side, the gangly kid nearly stumbling over his own clumsy feet.

“Woah,” Bellamy shouts as he saves his friend from toppling over, narrowing his eyes at the potential aggressor.

The boy is short and svelte, wearing a blue hairband which matches the colour of his eyes and does a weak job in keeping his longish brunette hair out of his face. His nose is prominent and a little bit crooked, and his rosy lips are curled into an arrogant smirk.

“Never mind,” the asshole dares to say, ignoring their loud protests and turning around to walk over to his own team as if nothing happened. 

Bellamy can’t help but notice that the jersey he’s wearing is a little too tight, clinging to his lean body in a way that makes his eyes gravitate towards his narrow hips and the soft curve of his back. “MURPHY” is written on the black shirt in bright red letters. 

“The Delinquents” may be new to the game, yet they are already well known in High School soccer, and the name of their captain only precedes their reputation. John Murphy is a notorious troublemaker, and in person, he seems to be everything Bellamy hates about High School and soccer.

“Hey!” he shouts after the retreating boy who seems to confuse the soccer field with a runaway, his hips swaying invitingly.

Murphy turns back to grin at him while he looks him up and down shamelessly. “What’s the matter, honey? Got something you wanna tell me?”

“You just jostled my friend here.”

“I did what?” he laughs it off. “Come on, he more or less threw himself at me, I didn’t have to do anything. And believe me or not, he’s not the first and certainly not the last person to throw himself at me, if you know what I mean,” Murphy adds with a conspicuous wink.

“You’re kidding, right?” 

Murphy is still watching him with that smug look on his face, and it takes all of Bellamy’s willpower not to close the short distance between them and wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his stupid lips.

“Leave it be,” Jasper mumbles behind him, and Wells and Lincoln both step forward, the latter putting a hand on his arm to keep him from doing anything stupid. Leaving it be most certainly would be the wiser decision, but when has he ever been wise? And right now he has every right to be angry, and won’t let this slip that easily. 

“Why do you have to be such a jerk?” he asks, still eyeing his opponent angrily.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. We’ll let the balls do the talking.” 

The innuendo isn’t lost on him, and to his dismay Bellamy’s cheeks colour in response, his lips pursing into a thin line. 

Meanwhile, Murphy seems to have lost interest and has taken the nearest soccer ball, juggling it and performing a perfect back-heel which is greeted by several loud cheers from the other players of his team who have been watching their exchange from a few metres away. Murphy turns back to blow a kiss at Bellamy before he finally joins his teammates, the referee beckoning them that the game is about to begin.

Bellamy waves at Octavia, Raven and Clarke who are cheering at him from the sidelines, then walks over to the half-way line to meet the waiting referee and the other captain, both shaking hands with the referee before they ultimately have to shake hands with each other. 

“Lots of girls for one man,” Murphy chuckles, giving a short nod to the right. “You’re a real lady’s man, aren’t you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but none of them is my girl.”

“Oh,” Murphy grins, his blue eyes widening with mock-surprise. “Sorry man, I didn’t want to rub it in...”

It’s in fact clear that he wanted to rub it in and that he’s taking any chance he gets to throw him off balance. Bellamy figures it might be the best thing not to engage with Murphy and ignore his digs. Winding him up is clearly what he wants, and he won’t give him the satisfaction. 

He doesn’t miss Murphy’s thumb brushing over his skin casually and the provocative glint in his eyes as he looks up at him after, though. And he also doesn’t miss the electric jolt the short touch sends through his body.

The coin tosses in his favour, and the referee addresses him, waiting for his decision.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” Murphy flutes, kneeling beside him to tie his shoe, leaving him almost no choice than to take a short glimpse at what he’s offering.

“What’s your choice?” The referee repeats, saving him from any further thoughts about Murphy’s backside.

“Choice of ends,” Bellamy decides, drawing his gaze away from the unwelcome sight. _The sun is low, let them squint against it for the first half, he thinks with a spice of malice_.

They settle for their respective sides, then the referee blows the whistle, and the kick-off begins.

As it turns out, the delinquents are as bad as their reputation. They throw themselves into the tackles without any restraints. They taunt them whenever the referee isn’t watching, and especially Bellamy’s bearing the brunt of it.

Murphy on the pitch isn’t any different to Murphy off the pitch, but much to Bellamy’s regret, he has to admit through gritted teeth that he’s actually a pretty decent player. He’s not incredibly fast, neither is his technique extraordinarily good nor does his physique overwhelm him. Yet still he’s the lynchpin of the rival team, surprisingly clever and quick-minded, and unpredictable enough to give his team a considerable headache. 

Every pass, every successful attack involves him somehow, and more than once Wells or Jasper need to take him out violently to prevent severe damage. Bellamy has to give him credit, though. Murphy never complains, and whenever he’s tripped, he gets to his feet again quickly and moves on as if nothing happened.

One time, close to the end of the first half, Bellamy has to stop him himself when Murphy outruns him by pulling his jersey so hard he nearly rips it apart. And of course, the referee notices. But that’s not the worst part.

“If you want a piece of this, all you have to do is ask, pretty boy,” Murphy drawls as he pulls down his shirt, a little bit slower and more sensual than necessary.

Bellamy’s eyes nearly roll at the back of his head, and he doesn’t even try to hide his relief when the referee finally blows the whistle and him and his team can head to the cabin for the half-time break. 

When another player hits him on the back while passing, he looks up, already a snide comment on his lips, awaiting Monty or Jasper, or even Lincoln. But – how could it be otherwise – it’s Murphy jogging next to him, his brown hair loose and sweaty, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leans towards him to whisper: “Care to join me in the shower later, darling?”

Bellamy tries his best to shake it off, but the offer makes an unsettling image flash in his mind: _Murphy standing in front of the shower, nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. His wet hair sticking to his head, small droplets of water running down his milky arms and his marble chest. He’s staring at him with a cocky grin as he runs his fingers through his dripping hair slowly, sending another trail of water down his glistening torso_...

His response comes a minute too late to count as quick-witted. “How about your butt joins the floor” he yells after Murphy, but his feeble comeback is only met with more laughter and a “can’t stop thinking about my backside, can you”, making his face not only blush with anger.

“He’s really a handful,” Lincoln states as he studies Bellamy’s scarlet red face.

“He’s the lewdest and most obnoxious person I’ve ever met in my life. It’s – it’s infuriating!”

 _And distracting, more than distracting_. He’s been playing soccer since he was a little boy, and by now he’s used to other players targeting him and trying to rile him up, but never like this. Especially not when it’s working, and his opponent’s whole presence is flustering him more than he likes to let on.

His best friend seems to get the same impression. “That must be it.” Lincoln murmurs, hiding a grin behind his hand.

“Why don’t you just ignore him, like you usually do? This one seems to be truly getting under your skin, man,” Jasper chimes in as he slings one arm around Bellamy’s shoulder, while Monty whispers “he was picturing him naked” into Lincoln’s ear. It’s loud enough for him to hear, and he darts them a stony glance.

“Just forget it,” he mumbles, emptying his water bottle over his head. To his utter displeasure, it doesn’t help one bit to cool him down in any way. He’s really looking forward to that shower after the match – _goddammit_. 

*****

The second half isn’t any better. Apparently, Murphy is on duty to cover him now which involves them colliding more times than he can count, topping it all off with more smack talk than he has ever heard in all of his years playing soccer. And if he has to listen to him say “what do the ladies think about your performance today” or anything about his mother again, he might not know what will happen.

When they clash the next time as Bellamy tries to separate him from the ball, Murphy conveniently falls on him, taking an awfully long time to get up again, and the need to strategically place his hands on Bellamy’s torso to do so. His annoyed sigh is only met by another smirk, and he purposefully ignores the hand Murphy stretches out to help him up.

The last few minutes of the game degenerate into a shoving match, and more than one player in both teams is losing their cool. Jasper picks up a yellow card for a verbal confrontation with a guy that went in hard against Monty. A player of the rival team, a tall, broad-shouldered guy, is sent off for fouling Wells while the ball was still in the other half of the field.

It’s affecting Bellamy as well as the others, and he has to hold himself back in the tackles, especially with Murphy who still seems surprisingly little out of breath after running from one half to the other half of the field for the whole game. He is at least better in shape than him Bellamy has to learn the hard way when Murphy outruns him easily enough, then jumps over Wells’ leg as he tries to slide tackle him. While Bellamy takes a moment to react and Wells struggles to get to his feet, Murphy uses his chance to give-and-go with one of his teammates and chips the ball into the net without leaving Lincoln any chance to deflect.

“What the fuck, Bellamy!” Lincoln growls, but he’s too busy watching Murphy with mild disgust as he pulls his two tall, handsome friends – that seem to flock to him like he’s some kind of celebrity on and off the pitch – into a tight group hug.

If this wasn’t bad enough, Murphy strips of his shirt, giving the referee the thumbs up as he shows him a yellow card, all the while his eyes never leave Bellamy’s who has to channel all of his inner strength to stop himself from staring at his bare chest like the total fool he is.

After the game and another flippant comment, Bellamy finally is fed up. “I’m going to teach him a lesson he won’t forget,” he mumbles before he stomps towards Murphy.

“This is going to be good,” Lincoln notes, and Jasper and Monty burst into a fit of giggles that even manages to bring a faint smile to Wells’ solemn face. 

“You bet,” Finn adds. It’s the last thing he hears of them, and if he’s honest, he’s glad about it. They wouldn’t understand anyway. 

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asks the still half-naked and distractingly sweaty, rosy-cheeked boy.

Murphy flashes him a bright smile, and his two good-looking friends whistle after them as he follows him off the field obediently.

“I always have a minute left for you, pretty boy,” Murphy chuckles, taking a large gulp out of his bottle before he holds it towards him: “You’ thirsty? Because it looks like–”

It’s the straw to break the camels back.

Bellamy stops dead in his track, then pins the unsuspecting boy roughly against the next wall. Murphy has no chance to get out of his hold, yet he is still smiling at him, his blue eyes sparkling provocatively as he slowly licks his lips.

“Thought you wanted to talk,” he rasps and moves under him slightly, making Bellamy realise all at once how close they are and what he is doing – _what is he even doing? _– before he leans all in and kisses him.__

__He hasn’t kissed anyone for a long time, let alone a guy. Murphy tastes of salt and apple juice and, after a moment of hesitation, turns out to be a great and enthusiastic kisser, but the longer the kiss lasts, the less sure Bellamy is what exactly he’s trying to prove._ _

__When they finally break apart, Murphy stares at him with glazed eyes, his hair dishevelled and his hairband having fallen to the ground. And for the first time, he is the one left speechless, a deep pink blush creeping up his pale cheeks._ _

__“Well, that was...interesting,” he mutters, and without another word, turns on his heels and disappears into the dark catacombs of the stadium._ _

__“Wow, you really taught him that lesson,” Lincoln says as he and the others catch up with him. “Did you wrestle each other because–” Bellamy shoots him a warning glance, and he trails off, a knowing smile playing on his lips._ _

__“Yeah, you shut him down for good, boss” Jasper snickers, patting his back as if he just made a huge achievement._ _

__Bellamy doesn’t respond to him, still staring at the place Murphy was standing only seconds ago. His mouth still tastes sweet, and he feels– he doesn’t quite know how he feels._ _

__He takes an awful long time to get ready, and maybe he’s stalling, and maybe at least Lincoln seems to know he is, judging by the crease that appears on his forehead as he watches him meticulously folding his clothes for ten minutes._ _

__“You’re planning to stay in here forever?” he wants to know._ _

__“If I have to?”_ _

__Lincoln sighs, sits next to him on the bench and nudges him. “Come on. You kissed a guy, and you liked it? I don’t have a problem with that. And you shouldn’t either. Although your taste leaves much to be desired.”_ _

__“I didn’t–” he protests, but Lincoln’s raised eyebrows render his attempt of lying useless. “Okay, I might have, but I don’t know what’s got into me.”_ _

“ _Whatever the hell we want_ , isn’t this what you told us? Time to follow your own advice,” Lincoln grins at him, giving his shoulder a squeeze before he leaves him alone with much to ponder. 

__Once all of his other have left, all his clothes are folded, he’s fully dressed and packed to go, there’s no other excuse for him to hide any longer._ _

__When he walks out of the locker room, he’s not surprised to find Murphy leaning against the wall waiting for him, a cigarette between his lips. He drinks him in for a moment, his still damp hair that falls loosely in his face, the low-cut white V-neck he is wearing, the tight jeans, the leather jacket slung over his shoulder. By the way he is meeting his gaze again he has regained at least some of his earlier self-assurance._ _

__“Letting yourself get a little carried away with that whole James Dean attitude, don’t you think?”_ _

__“Not that you ever let yourself get carried away. How was your shower, by the way?” Murphy replies, blowing a billow of smoke right into his face. “You want a hit?”_ _

__Hesitating for a beat, he takes a slow, calculated drag, hyper-aware of their fingers brushing for a split-second and Murphy’s gaze following his every move._ _

__“You really should quit that, you know,” he says in a transparent attempt to break the tension._ _

__“You don’t say,” Murphy grins. “And yet I’m still faster than you.”_ _

Bellamy grins back at him, allowing himself to be teased for once before flipping Murphy the bird and heading over to his waiting teammates and friends.  
  
“And for your information, we’re training in Tondc at six every Tuesday and Thursday if you need to improve your stamina. Come by if you want to...you know...talk again,” Murphy calls after him, and Bellamy’s fingers reach for his lips before he realises what he’s doing and how everyone, including his sister, Raven and Clarke, seems to be staring at him. 

_Whatever the hell we want, then?_ If he thinks about it, he could use some training after all.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading!


End file.
